You are currently 8 3/4 years old and you still let me read great stories to you at night before you go to bed. We have been working our way through the Carl Hiassen books and are reading "Flush" right now.

Last night's chapter had a reference to bachelor parties and exotic dancers and I asked you if you knew what that meant and then gave you the simple explanation that some women will dance naked to make money and that their job is called 'exotic dancer'. We left it at that and then moved on.

This morning when you came into my room I asked you if you had a good night sleep and your response was, "Yes. I dreamed all night about those dancing ladies".

Well this past week has been completely out of the ordinary. A giant hurricane has come our way. Hurricane Sandy is her name and she has wiped out power in much of the New York metro area, including over seventy percent of the homes in Glen Rock. Without power, we have no heat, no hot water, no lights and other things that we consider essentials like internet and cable. How did we ever live without them in the past!

During the time that we considered our home uninhabitable without all these modern conveniences, we stayed with our neighbors and friends, the Tufanos. And my goodness, if I didn't think that they were a pretty amazing family before, after taking us into their home and sharing everything that they had with us for a full week, well, they are just amazing!

Alex, I know you are kind of like me and are often astonished by friendship and how easy it can be for some people. The lesson I would like you to learn from our neighbors and friends is that you should be…

Oh Alex, I know I promised to share the good, the bad and the ugly and I know that probably I should just have a "this too shall pass" attitude toward this moment in time, but instead I find myself wanting to protect you from this anxious, stress-ridden version of yourself.

You are my child, you are driven by a need to be perfect, to be better than everyone else, a better student, a better athlete, a better friend, a better musician, to be the best at everything from the moment you try. This autumn, there has been so much more and so much new all at once between four days a week of football, two days a week of Hebrew school, more homework in more subjects, more pressure to be seen as "cool", to play kickball well during recess, to have more play-dates, to be a part of everything. It is indeed overwhelming.

The result has been some crying (on your part and on my part), some frustration and some insomnia (last night I awoke at 230 am to you and Avery playing with Leg…

You are sleeping right now, which is the reason that I am typing this letter to you and no longer yelling and screaming.

You are eight and a half years old and in third grade right now. You are learning about boundaries and lying and telling the truth and doing the right thing. (You are also learning reading comprehension, math, science and social studies.)

Tonight you did something perhaps accidental and no doubt an incredibly stupid and expensive mistake. You were taking a shower in our bathroom which has a stall shower. Your sat down and covered the drain with your body to see just how high you could get the water to go. Stall showers are not made to do this and so you caused a flood. A flood not just in my bathroom, but also into my bedroom, also through the floor and ceiling below and into the hallway and coat closet.

It was raining in my hallway downstairs.

I am furious. Intellectually, I know that eventually I will calm down, eventually I will just laugh ("rem…

You will watch many movies and TV shows in your life in which you get to watch someone testify in court. (Testify means to tell the truth) Whenever someone goes up on the witness stand in these movies and shows, the lawyer will always ask first, "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

I couldn't help but think of this phrase today after you complained that Jenny would not let you do your homework in your room yesterday.

We had told you that if you were having trouble concentrating with your sister running around and making noise that we were perfectly comfortable with you sitting at your desk in your room by yourself.

You told us that Jenny told you "no" when you asked. I really couldn't believe that Jenny would say that to you, so I challenged you, "You know I'm going to ask her about it" and you challenged me right back, "Go ahead, she did say 'no'!"

So I've been thinking about writing a novel. But I have no discipline. And I don't really know how to get started. I do know that I'd like the protagonist to be an American woman whose grandparents are Holocaust survivors.

I've even thought about the opening lines:

"She walked up to the bema to read, an honor bestowed upon her by the synagogue on this particular Shabbat. Before she had even finished speaking the first sentence, I felt the familiar prick of tears at the corner of my eyes; we were instantly connected by something as simple as a European accent"

It has been over a month since I have written to you. These darn fall routines are certainly a time suck! Even now, as I'm struggling to fit it all in on a Friday, I know that I will only write something short because that is all I have time for today.

So let's see. Alex, this fall you must master the fine art of balancing. You have have third grade and all that comes with it - thirty minutes of homework a day instead of fifteen, a recorder for music class that you play enthusiastically, football practice two hours a day, three days a week (plus a two hour game on weekends) and Hebrew school two hours a day, twice a week. Let's just say that itouch time, Wii time and hanging out with your friends time are minimal right now. So while you really seem to be loving football, I am looking forward to the winter to get eight hours a week of your time back.

Avery, perhaps your schedule might not be quite as daunting as your brother's, however, make no mistake, you…

Thanks for getting past your tantrum.about going to Florida instead of Jamaica this year (that was a sarcastic 'thank you', in case that was not utterly clear). In any case, I wanted to write a bit more about your continued evolution of understanding privilege and wealth.

We visited with friends that have a house in the Hamptons this past weekend. From the moment we entered their house you began to speak about how you would really like to live in a house like this. There were many instances throughout the weekend in which you made it clear that you were pleased with your surroundings. The crown jewel of comments however, came when you and I went for a walk on Sunday afternoon. Our hosts had told us which way to walk so that we could see the house that Beyonce and Jay-z own. Standing in front of their estate, you counted seven chimneys, which meant seven fireplaces and you said, "This house is so huge it looks like a small factory with all those chimneys!&quot…

You are having a lot of fun at summer camp this year. And while we may be a generation or two later with DVDs and itouches and video streaming and constant social media, I am so very happy to report that summer camp and all that goes along with it are still very much the same. Here are some quick photos (that I took with my phone - so okay, some things may have changed!) on the walk to and from camp last week.

It's August. Another month until school starts and I'm not rushing the end of summer, but all the sudden I can feel it creeping up on us.

I have been wondering if you ever think about how I am performing at my job of mommy. Do you think I am perfect? I am not. There is no one ideal for this job description. I do however, imagine that each and every mom can close her eyes and can describe her ideal in minute detail.

My paragon of perfection is not unlike a well-rounded liberal arts education with a strong core. I think about music, visual arts, sports, literature, pop culture, social interactions, healthy eating, well-rested, clean rooms, clean bodies, indoor play, outdoor play. One must be at least minimally proficient in all of these areas, if he or she hopes to lead a successful life. Believe it or not, that is why I try to 'under' schedule you. I believe that when left to your own devices that you will be most creative and engaged.

I just had to write about this little tale. It is emblematic of one of the themes of this blog - finding humor in tragedy. Perhaps, that is how I should tag the posts that are now categorized as "therapy".

Tragedy is a strong word, sometimes sadness or melancholy will do, but in this case I think it's appropriate. You see, there has been another unexpected death. Our friend, Andy has lost his dad, Paul. And so, the community has gotten together to mourn. That's when people either deal with their own grief and sadness or help friends and family to do so. When you're Jewish, this process is called shiva. If someone in your family died, you are "sitting shiva" and when you are helping someone mourn you "pay a shiva call".

So when Andy's dad died, we were paying a shiva call. I'll get into the rituals in a bit, but to begin with I just want to describe the wild scene at Katie and Andy's house. It was one giant playdate of kids…

This post is all for you. I want you to know that you are growing up privileged (we hate the word 'spoiled'!) and that it is a struggle for us everyday to make sure that you are thankful for the amazing childhood that you have.

Today you burst into tears. Why? Because you had no food in your belly? No roof over your head? No mother and father and sister and grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins to love you? Nope. None of those. It was because we mentioned to you that you would be sharing a room with Avery in the summer house that we rented. You have had a summer house every single summer since you were born, so I should not have to explain what that is, right? Oh and that instead of going to Jamaica for your November school break this year that we would be going to Florida to visit Grandma and Pop in their new house. With a pool. Right outside your bedroom door.

You poor dear. How can you ever survive such treatment and injustices?

As I take a deep breath, bleary eyed from staring at a computer screen all day, I wanted to tell you that even if you still want to be a princess-fairy-ballerina when you grow up, but find yourself instead tap-tap-tapping away on your computer keyboard that it's okay.

Some of the stuff that you never imagined would be so integral to making you happy in daily life like being a mommy, being a wife, being a friend would be super tough to accomplish if indeed you were a princess-fairy-ballerina. Plus, what would have to talk about with your children, your spouse and your friends if not your dashed dreams of being a princess-fairy-ballerina.

So I am not writing amazing essays for Newsweek that will one day be collected into a book of stories. (Miss you, Nora Ephron!) and I am good with that. Well most of the time, I am good with that and when I am n…

I swear that sometimes you are sunny and lovely and loving, but that is just not as much fun to write about when at this age of four you are also often completely normal in being unbalanced and angry and crazy. So I am sorry for these posts all in a string in this part of the blog, but my darling, each and every story I relate here is completely true.

So yes, it's true, sometimes you do have bouts of intense anger that bubbles up and is kind of like the book "When Sophie Gets Angry". We do our best to parent you through these moments, staying as calm and neutral and anger free as possible.

While I've already forgotten what this past weekend's tantrum was about, I do remember that you were having trouble managing your emotions and this time the victim of your acrimony was your poor dad. With teeth clenched you said, no actually you shrieked, "I'm going to say the C -word because I'm so angry!" at which point your dad and I looked at …

This past weekend you decided you wanted a buzz cut. Because I am a full believer in letting you do just about anything that's not permanent (so color it blue for all I care, but no piercings and no tattoos!), I said okay even though I love, Love, LOVE you with slightly longer hair.

So this is the result of that haircut. Without the sunglasses, I am reminded of what you looked like when you were a hairless baby Alex. Your daddy thinks that you look more athletic and a bit more tough. Some friends of mine have seen this photo and say that you look bada$$. I am going to be honest with you, I really hate it! You told me that you really don't like how it looks too much either and that you don't plan on cutting it this short again.

And since I am the keeper of our family history both through this blog and through the taking of photos, I am thinking that this one photo will be the only one to document that you decided to experiment with a new look the summer you were…

Hi kids, I want you to know that when I get to be creative I am at my happiest. You make ask then why I often poo-poo arts & crafts or science projects at home. The simple answer is I love the chance to be creative when I am not utterly responsible for cleaning up your giant messes. I LOVE your messes, I do! And I am looking forward with great joy to the day that you will be responsible for your own messes. Anyway, as usual, a huge digression. So tomorrow is Alex's last day of second grade. He's had a great year and a great teacher and I want to thank her. There will be a gift card, of course, but I wanted to do something more. I decided to bake cookies, in 98 degree heat. :) Here's the label I made to adorn the plate of cookies: I hope she likes it. And I hope that when you find something that you love to do that you get to do it all day, every day. And now back to my regularly scheduled day filled with data (yuck!) and more data (boo!). Love, Mom

Just wanted to let you know that I think it's entirely normal to forget in just the blink of an eye, the things that really matter in life and to start to get super-cranky on a Monday morning about all the everyday annoyances. I am posting below this internet-famous story about some mythical professor that I see pop up from time to time over the years. Reading it always helps me to smile, even on a Monday morning.

"A professor stood before his philosophy class with some items in front of him. When the class began, he picked up a very large and empty glass jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was. The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it int…

Dear Avery,I have been thinking a bit about what makes a person different or special and do I really want that for you. This past weekend my friend Vivian and I took you and her daughter Natalie to see a show in the city called Freckleface.

Freckleface is a musical geared for kids that teaches the important lesson to celebrate all of our differences. Of course, when we asked you girls what you had learned from the play you said 'how to tap dance' and 'how to dribble a basketball'. Perhaps the show was meant for someone older than four years. But I digress.

Anyway, the real story that I wanted to relate to you was that you did something that probably every other child has done in some form or another at some point or another. And the formula goes like this:

"Hey friend, I think you should see if this tiny object can fit inside your nose. Do you want to try and see?"

This type of situation almost always involves tweezers and if you are very lucky will involve …

It's June only a few more weeks until you are done with second grade. You turned eight this past March. I want you to know these details while I recount this story to you.

This past weekend you lost another tooth while you were sleeping and either swallowed it in your sleep or it's hiding somewhere tangled in the sheets or under you bed. In either case, you asked if you should write a note so that the tooth fairy would know to come and visit. You even asked me where you think you should put it so the tooth fairy would be able to find it easily.

The next morning, SURPRISE, the tooth fairy had left you five dollars and her calling card of a little flower sticker on the note you had written.

You were in your room and I casually mentioned, "Oh look what the tooth fairy left you." You looked and said, "How cute, mom. You put a little sticker on the note for me!"

Why do you love roller coasters so much? What is it about how you were made? Furthermore, when do we all think Avery will be tall enough so that I will be able to cease the insanity that is "shorter child must be accompanied by an adult"?

A couple of weeks ago, Avery was sitting on Eric's lap on the couch while he was relaxing and watching some TV before he gave her evening bath. Avery was facing him and hugging him and being silly because she wanted his attention to focus on her instead of on the television.

All the sudden she says, "Daddy! It's 'gina verse penis!" and begins to give her very loving father what can only be described as a lap dance. It was one of those moments where the adults in the room (myself and Eric) just froze not sure how to diffuse the situation. Eric lifted her off his lap, the two of us bit our lips to keep from bursting out laughing and we moved on with our evening.

We look forward to embarrassing her with this story when she is much older.

We're off to Hershey Park in a few hours. Reminder - that we went to Disney World earlier this year and have plans to go to Six Flags later this summer. Reminder - that I HATE amusement parks, hate hanging out with the great unwashed (yes, I am a snob, get used to it), hate the rides that make my stomach feel all funny (too scary) as well as the rides that do not make my stomach feel all funny (too boring).

But I LOVE you two and the joy and happiness that I get to witness when we take you guys to these places.

Hi kids,A lot of the work I'm doing right now has put me face-to-face with people who have so much less financially than we do. And if you have read some of the recent posts you know I have written about our friends and family that are dealing with a lot less health than we have. With all this exposure to less, it would be very easy to fall into an anxiety ridden and fearful state of 'what if?', but I am trying my hardest to be thankful and positive everyday. Every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep I will say a little prayer because my life is rich with health and happiness and kisses and hugs from your dad and the two of you and friends who care and sweet smelling flowers and bites of chocolate and bagels and silly songs and chatting on the phone and laughing at TV shows and vacations and the list could really go on. Remember to be thankful everyday. It will do wonders for your outlook on life. Love, Mom

Now that you are four years old, you seem to spend a good amount of time thinking about your future self. You like to discuss at length what you will be when you 'grow up'.

In my mind we are making good progress. The latest iteration of a career comes in the form of your wanting to be a teacher with blonde curls. I have no idea what the hairstyle has to do with your being effective, but visualizing is never a bad thing I guess.

In any case, I feel my work is paying off. Just a few weeks ago, you had informed me that you would like to be a manicurist. At that point I was so glad (sarcasm intended) that I had continued to reinforce that you can be anything you want to be when you grow up, a CEO, president or.....a manicurist. At least that was a step in the right direction from your previous career aspirations of wanting to be a pretty princess.

Today we went to see Dr Jawetz for your 8 year and Avery's 4 year check-up. Alex, you have been talking to me for a few days now about whether you would have to get a shot. Each time you asked I corrected you - it's an injection not a shot - and told you that I did not know what the protocol was for the 8 year old visit. And each time you asked, I think that your anxiety continued to increase.

When we got to the office, you asked the nurse. She did not know either. By the time you asked Dr. Jawetz your goofy, crazy, nervous energy was at an all time high. And when you found out that the answer was yes (You needed a Hepatitis A booster), your anxiety reached an all time high.

So here's what I know about this visit to the doctor. You are 54.5 inches tall and weigh 67 pounds. And 67 pounds of pure muscle is extremely hard to restrain when said person does NOT, you repeated DOES NOT want to have blood taken or vaccines received. You cried and screamed and yelle…

Notice that I didn't wish you a plain old 'happy' birthday in the title of this post. At four years old, you feel with such passion and wild abandon that I needed a really strong synonym for happy.

I want you to know that every minute of every day that I recognize that you are an amazing little person. And while at this point in your life you are sometimes challenging, you also always continue to be a joy to watch as you grow and develop.

I mentioned your passion and intensity - this goes for both the positive and the negative. No one else I know gives tighter hugs or longer kisses than you do. No one else I know can revel the way you do in the simple pleasures be it a great tasting strawberry, a beautiful flower or a really funny joke. And no one else I know will wail with true empathy when you see someone else in pain. This is not to say that your passion is without its dark side. You are also in touch with anger and the simplest instances of not havi…

Each and every time I go to CVS in town, I am forced to purchase another run of the mill, cost about $1 nail clipper. This is because each and every time I go to look for a nail clipper in this house, I have discovered that one of the wee ones, most likely Avery has used it and forgotten where she has put it. Now at this point, I must have purchased at least two dozen and my question is, where on earth (or more specifically, in my home) could they all be!?!?

The title of this post might seem kind of weird, but I hope by the time you are old enough to read this you will have seen all of the movies and read all of the books that have struck a chord with me throughout my life. If you haven't yet, that quote is from a movie (and a book) called The Outsiders.

Anyway, the real reason that I'm writing is that many of our loved ones are sick - really sick and battling that sickness. I have written about this sickness before and each time I feel like I have documented it here, lo and behold, I hear of another friend of family member who must be strong and fight disease. It is horrifying. We have kept this from you because you are young and you shouldn't have to deal with so much sadness. In any case, it has me wondering (with much anxiety) if we are truly immune and how or why we are truly immune to disease. This might be the anxiety talking, but I really do not think that we are safe from sickness so please, please, plea…

Dear Avery,One morning this week, I woke up to find you sound asleep next to me cuddling your bear. I know moments like these are fleeting and I am truly thankful for each one of them that I get to experience with you.Love,Mommy

Hey kids,I'm freakin' out because I just saw a news story about the level of radiation that ipads emit. I know how much you two like to play with them and hold them in your laps and I am wondering how I can prevent anything bad from happening to your still tiny developing bodies.I would do just about anything to protect you and keep you healthy. You may hate me now because of limitations on how long you are able to play with the Easy Bake Oven and JetPack apps, but in the long run when you remain healthy and are easily able to have babies of your own, I think you might change your minds.Figuring out how to live in an ever changing world is certainly tough.

Today you turn eight and I just cannot believe it! I truly remember when I measured your age in weeks and even days, that's how new to the world you were. And now you are eight and completely your own person.

I love that you have secrets with friends and you call them up on the phone! by yourself! and ask if they want to "hang out" - no more play-dates, I know.

I love that while you are growing up, there are still some remnants of little boy in you and for that I am thankful as I am not ready to cede you to the world. I love that you will still hold my hand when we take walks and give me hugs and kisses (as long as your friends are not around) and hop into bed with me in the morning to just be lazy.

I love that you are becoming such a great reader and that you enjoy both works of fiction and non-fiction. I love even more that you still let me read to you every night before bed and that you beg for just one more chapter, even though the books we read now ha…

The sickness that I wrote about in the last post seemed to be only the beginning of other scary, sad and then heart wrenching moments to come in the near future. I was in a car accident in which I was uninjured (thank goodness), but it was bad enough to shake my confidence. Then in the worst of all parents' nightmares our friends, Mike and Suzanne have suddenly and tragically lost the live of their son Gavin. Daddy and I went to the funeral today - I cannot possibly type anything here that would do justice to the emotional low that everyone in that room was feeling.

It's kind of strange right now being surrounded by so much grief that I find has brought on an enormous sense of contemplation. It's strange because in the middle of all of it, I am still able to be happy, even joyful in the moment with you. This magnificent spring weather has settled in, which has meant evening walks, playing outside, rosy cheeks and dirty, scraped up knees. Today, as we …

I'm sorry if I've been a little short with you lately. Too many people in our lives have been sick lately and not the kind of sick that you feel better after some chicken soup and good night sleep; rather it's the sick that lives with you for months or even years and makes you wonder if you will ever be healthy again.

When I think about how absolutely blessed we are with our health, I feel badly about my anger towards what I perceive as imperfections: the house not perfectly clean and in order, shoes and backpacks and teddy bears not put back in their proper place, a not so nice work colleague making me want to quit my job for all the wrong reasons, my not being better at filling out school and camp forms and scheduling playdates and participating in each and every school activity (and not staying through music time with Avery today - I'm sorry my darling shana, I know how important that was to you today and I don't want to ever let you down).

The answer is of course, yes, as a family, we can get through anything together. The "this" that I'm writing about is:

A] two kids with lice (a.k.a. the straw that broke the camel's back)B] one horrible head cold (it made leaning forward over kids' head to peer and make sure all nits were gone all the more fun)C] one husband away for the week for work (in the best of situations, I am co-dependent and saddened when I don't get to hang out with Eric on a daily basis)D] nary a work from home day in the past month....until today, when infested heads beckoned me home.

I was reading one of my favorite blogs this evening and was saddened to discover that the writer had bared her soul and shared with the world that she and her husband had just separated. Here is a woman that I have never met, yet I am invested in her daily life and believed that I understood the inner-workings of her family.

I do hope that she is able to work it out, but in a somewhat narcissistic way, reading that post had me being introspective about my own relationship. I thought about how I could best express how I feel about Eric, the love of my life. Because even on my darkest and crankiest of days, I simply love Eric. The idea of being apart from him never crosses my mind. I miss him when we are apart even for one evening. I am lucky, I am blessed and I do not take the joy I get from this relationship for granted. Eric is truly my beshert.

Beshert is a Yiddish word for one's soulmate. I was reading an article by Emuna Braverman, a clincial psychologist and marriage …

This past weekend you had a few firsts. Your first wrestling meet: three matches of which you won the first and lost the second and third. And your first time playing Words With Friends (with me, Grandma, Pop pop and Auntie Dawn).

I do not believe that I have ever heard your dad cheer so loudly. In fact, he was hoarse later in the day from all that screaming. And he even told me that he has never been so proud of you in your entire life. Not just because you won, but because even when you lost, your perseverance was just amazing.

You also started playing Words With Friends. You are mainly using 3-letter words and don't quite get the strategy of double and triple letters and words, but - if I may be a little nerdy for a moment - the fact that you are playing Scrabble with me and other members of your family evokes such a warm, bubbly, enormous sense of pride in me - even more than watching you succeed in wrestling.